You're pretty and all
But
There's rust on my trust motor
So how about we try out some fun positions
And see where it goes
I know love is more than breathy “oh"s and curled toes
But
My heart can’t take the break
And I don't want to die, I think.

Rust dust crusts husks
of broken men before
the droop of her pouty lips.

Lust thrusts guts just
in time to feel truly
helpless before those
******* blue eyes.

Blind mind dined fine
on the entrails of
groaning peasants.

Kind grind bind spine
Of the loose backed
Weak kneed man

I still think of her and lament my lack of her….

You say I should
Respect
Your beliefs while
Your
Holidays were scheduled to
Disrespect
The beliefs of
People
Your religion's ancestors
Persecuted.

Respect is earned.

Lack of capacity doesn't
Matter
When the belief system is shared.

Lack of participation doesn't
Absolve
When the belief is chosen.

Scream this at the unhearing, uncaring, unthinking
mass of ignorance that call themselves "the faithful".

Blood, hearts, and mud mired mythology
all fail to describe that desire for pale skin and lust's fire.


But I still can't see past the crush,
mind blanks and stomach stabbed by nausea shanks
what the ****.


I feel half my age and not in the good way often espoused by the saged
But in the small way that makes you remember how powerless you were.
How powerless you are.


When the fever breaks you're not getting better.
When the sickness passes you're not getting better.
Scars mar hope's north star.
Until you can't find your way forward.
Until just going anywhere gets you more and more lost.

I don’t call myself a poet, though I do write poems.
I think.

I don’t think it's honest to say I am a something.
I prefer to be seen as a someone, anyway.

I presume it's presumptuous to say “I’m of this us!”
And meaningless to minds, whom I want to find,
anyway.

Not everything I write is a poem, but I put thought into it,
attempt to elicit emotion or bend the meanings of words to some poetic end.

So call me what name you want.
Label this thing in your thoughts.
But remember you're missing a lot
by ignoring words and seeing font.

The night takes delight in my empty bed plight
But her smile helps fight that downward cast sight
The memory of it
The fantasy of it

Breathy voice makes risky choice seem adroit
By the patch of moist or tent pole foist
Ready for use
Longing for use

But here I am
And there you are
Just a man and so very far
Just a ram and so very hard
Just a dam and so very marred

Light puffs of steam
fluoresce as though
lit internally.
The public lights
always do that
when I look up
to see the moon.
And it's cold,
but, I suppose it seems colder without a smile to warm me.
The pain of isolation
reinforces that God
definitely doesn't exist.
Or, if it does then I won't feel bad if I tell it to go **** itself.
Pain just for existing
Solitarily
is a curse enduring.
The moon reminds me
Of her
Of her lack.

I think I drank too much coffee
I feel like a slow motion explosion
Or the incoming tide of motivation's ocean

Depression interjects
Regression to lonely obsession
Regret opposes repose, daily

I must not be human
Or just one of the few men
With no beau tied to them

There must be something I’m doing wrong
Or something wrong with me
I’m 32 and only been in love once
And just for a few months.
I guess I’m just an ******* who can't sweet talk a princess

Whoever coined the phrase
Peace and quiet
Should feel the violence of this silence,
Hear the savage emptiness
Try to sleep in it
Regret that time passes and the morning comes
Let it pull you into that dark hole of
Memories and insecurities.

There is no peace in the quiet.
Or maybe, there just is no peace.

The pressure builds....

Being near her is like summer.
Warmth expressed and mind of thoughts divests.
Beauty is defined by her, not because she wants
but because she is.

The weight grows...

When Tennyson said “it is better to have loved and lost…” he hadn't felt the weight of her loss.
And I did it!
It was me who struck the final nail in future's coffin.
Such responsibility is enough to **** a man...

Darkness downward flows...

“But I felt neglected!” he shouts at the void.
As if the hole could be filled with excuse.
Flailing without aim he drank himself to shame and burnt his soul with end’s flame.

The silence of despair crows...

The blood Stark red against the snow
Tells a story of battle
Or slaughter.
No bodies or limbs
No gore or anything
Just blood and disturbed snow.
Blue cold clashing with warm sunset.

I laid there…
Eyes closed
Blissful in the knowledge
That my future sped out of reach
My past slowly growing
Warmth spread in my chest
Each beat
Slower now.

The stop was painful
The beat more so
And though I deserved
That end
The beat continued
Once more my future
Receded to my grasp.

That avalanche of *******
You call living day to day
With empty eyes and arms sliced
Blades
Blood
Bury your ******* dreams
In the back yard of that corporation
That office full of death and undeath
Those wise words wishing well
On your descent up the ladder.
Life lived like loss and happiness offset.

Cigarettes and bleach
Scents both clashing and fitting.

When life's continuance
Is the cleaning of
Public spaces

When wages wilt
The satisfaction
Of a job well done

Why wouldn't you
Ruin your lungs
A slow death made faster
A tortured life made shorter.

There must be tar in my lungs
Not because I used to smoke
Not because I breath fire at the feckless
But words keep sticking in my throat

Only the really big ones though
Not because they're long, they're not
Not because they're rare, they're not
But they're heavy and easy to stick

I wish I could say…

The ocean of my desire aroused by
The motion of her hips gyr'
Remains restrained within
Heart chained by pain
But my fear of being near her
sheer beauty makes me veer
From hope and float
With smoke to note
How harks the dark
When isolation marks stark
Regret's presence
And resonance.

When it all goes to **** and the skit
Calls for your respite, are you going to be there
For the bare skinned hanging mid-air
By fingers gripping wet wasp stingers
Getting pelted by insult slingers?

Or will you hide from those stones and venom
Let slide the froze-to-bone, not help ‘em

The onlookers lovingly smile as I plummet.

That power pole is leaning hard
It’s like the tilt of a dog’s head as it considers something.
Or the way she leans against my car
Or the way I bunch forward to lament her lean.

I can’t unsee that obtuse incline
I can’t internalize it less.
I hope that ******* pole falls.

Talk and talk
But that walk…
All hips and glide
Snide grin flips

Is there a season or
Warm hearts treason
Such a ****** cliché
As if your smile was for me.

I wish I could catch your eye
Or fly that moan and sigh
To the moon that I lost
…For that soul in frost…

My heart is the still full box
Of cookies left on the counter
In the office kitchen with the
Sticky note on it that says
"Please help yourself"

But no one does and they
Grow stale.
People turn their noses up
At the idea of taking a cookie
Thinking to themselves
"There's a reason no one is eating those"

Like sunlight filtered through
The small holes for the support
Strings of those metal blinds
The memory of us together
always hits me right in the third eye.

It's uncomfortable and distracting
And I’m constantly moving my focus to get away
But all I really want is to be able to say
That I'm glad you came back.

Breaking glass and crushing stone
Anger’s mask with irritation’s bone
I'll be crass and make insult moan
And bask in that defiant groan.

Curse the world and let it burn
With offense hurled and faces stern
Lips down curled from opined slur
Let flags furl and fill future's urn.

I don’t care for your stupid glare
Or superior air, go back to your lair
And never share that seed with a pair
My mind's a solar flare to your bargain bin brain fair.

I don't remember when the mask became my face
Or when sight stopped, despite my seeing eyes

And though I dwell in darkness
I do not fear the light.

And though the darkness dwells in me
I do not hate the light.

Take comfort in the sightless
Aimless
Blissful wandering

When had it all gone wrong?
That young man full of song
So innocent
Full of bliss
Now broken
Alone, unmissed.

Such growth while away
Hardened in the fray
Searching for truth
Lost in fog
Groping at cliffs
Fingers failing
Losing grip.

“Push through the pain!”
They say, seeing his strain
He welcomes the sound
Full of ignorance
Now remade
All scars and endurance.

Prey
Hunting vantages
Mates

All there is to know
Reflected in Hawk's eye

The arrow took it in the heart.

On bent knee with bent back
******
scrapes and cuts on skin pressed into gravel.
Resolute
He endures the downward press,
Taking vengeance on fate.

With shuddering breath,
A growl escapes
Cracked and chewed lips.
Muscles twitch and shiver as effort surges forth,
Willpower made flesh and stubborn
Refusal
To submit to reality's pessimism.

But eventually I’ll get out of bed.

There must be something wrong with my soul.
I’m willing to be who they want
Just so I can be who they want.

But I’m still just one
In a world of zeroes and twos
And Three Dog Night sang right about
One.

But I smile to people and hide how
….Feeble….
I feel.

Inside I am chaos and wreckage
Jealous of how happy she is
Outside I’m fat and ugly
Dying slowly with every laugh.

******* and *****
Triple slammed lips
Love and violence

Passion
But in my case
The desire
Is what matters.

Desire for blood
The need for moans under moonlight.

Give me a face to punch that isn’t my own
Give me a mind to **** that isn’t my own

Love
Violence
The things we men are bred for
Values and society and ****

Skin torn away and muscle fibers frayed
Bones dry rotted and tendons snapped
Relentless digging delivered disaster
But at least I know now
There's nothing special to me
There's nothing special.

So now that I’m broken and alone
Nothing but edge to hone
All that's left is to be the scythe
Unsheathed and bare before barren fields
And I’ll reap what's sown.

Dark eyes compel me to act
Rash without fact and tact.

Pulse and life quicken within
That memory of sin and gin

And then death
Because end
Is absolute.

When ice finally covers the earth
And life's last light winks out
I’ll still be the luckiest man to have lived
For having known your warmth.

I just wish I could get you out of my head
And I’m terrified of moving on from you
Because how could I reach a higher peak?
And how devastating would a fall from such height be?

In the silt with the rot
Like such guilt shame begot

The grey black brown mud
Cakes and stains my mind
Finding purchase within me
******* the life into muck.

“**** it, let it burn”
Words whispered while
The man drowns in
Still waters.

In the pure light of the moon
I am reminded that I am alone.
Warm breath blows in the chill air
And the sound reminds me of her.
Quiet
Presence
Heart beat

I can't decide if I miss you desperately
Or just hate being alone.
But your smile
Still haunts my
Closed eyes.

Something's sharp in my sock
Painfully poking me with every step
I thought it was a forward progress thing
But when I took a step back
It was still there.

So I stripped off my sole
Peaked inside that cloth membrane
And pulled out that **** nail

The way her jaw curves to that chin that borders those wide lips smiling mischievously in my memory…
Stabs me right in the movement
So I carefully put my shoe back on
Stamped down hard
Relished in the pain of her memory
And continued with my day

Like aged cheddar
Or hoppy ales
There’s a bitter bite
To the taste.

But so smooth
Like rich cream
Or thick yogurt
It just slides on in

It festers and grows
Like **** kombucha
Or dry aged steak
It just gets stronger…

And if I knew about
This three course meal
I’d have done so much more
To make you want to stay.

Softly
Like wind's remnants on the forest floor
Or dew dropping from leaf's tip

Loudly
Like ocean waves crashing on defiant rocks
Or summer thunderstorms raking the plains

Passionately
Like the bird sings in the morning
Or the argument between lovers

Don’t miss the chance
It may only come once.

A good night’s sleep
Alongside a loved other
Unmarred by expectations
Unmolested by human minds
Moonlight and soft breath
Dreams and thoughts
Soft whir of a fan
Drawn down
Until…

It’s been over a year
Since I told her I wouldn’t
Play second fiddle.

I still think of her
Every day it’s the same thought
Should I ask how she is?

And I genuinely hope
That she is doing well
And doesn’t feel the pain of loss.

But I secretly hope
That she misses me like I miss her
And thinks of me everyday.

Do you think I’m worth saving?
Could I convince you?
How much does it cost to save
a life, or how much
Is a stone cold heart actually…

The truth is
That gold and memories
Are just what you have.

And they both can bring
Joy
In their having
Gold in the trading
And memory in the making.

But they’re both just things
To possess
And both are very valuable.

I prefer that which
Consumes them both
Alcohol.

To the ground and drown in your “realism”
Pessimistic dismissal of moon shot missiles
Just because your lust for more bit the dust.

Show me that drive to rise free of worry's ties
Let me see your grit when your lip gets split
By the bones raining down like so many stones

And who cares if you stumble on the stairs?
It’s not like there’s no hand rail
It’s not like the vapid, energy sapping, yappers
Have a real hold on those ideals unsold.

Rise strong.

Love
Too on the nose, right?
Poetry is supposed to be written
By tortured souls with esoteric leanings and
Only ever alluding to the idea
That all they need is
Love

This melancholy gets old.
Writing about it gets ******* old.
And the quiet times remind me
that I’m still alone.
I try to drown out the quiet with fans
and videos on YouTube that make
absurd promises.

But my head rests on pillows
and not the fun fleshy kind.
The lifeless, soft, comfortable kind.
My body is warmed by blankets
not a lover.

The soaring highs ring hollow
Through this speaker
But the lows are richly decadent.

Lately this speaker has preferred lows
The highs just don’t persist like they do
From other speakers.

Perhaps it’s easier to produce those highs
With a matched stereo second speaker
Where one falters, the other supports.

And isn’t it just this speaker’s luck
To have its matched stereo second spoken for
Sounds and lives are just peaks and troughs.

Raised voices and red tinted eyeballs
Burning water and bitter seasoning
Like the fake Christ on that real cross, I open arms
And transmute alcohol to blood
Spit from split lip and broken nose…
Rage and rage and where the ****
Is my phone?
Is my girl?
Is my god ****** shot of whiskey?!
No matter how many teeth leave their
Mark on my knuckles
It's all still lost to the lung tongue or back of throat stung.

I believe people
Too easily.
If I have no reason
To distrust them
I do not.
And how can I have
A reason to distrust
Someone who
I do not know.
I have not spoken with.
I have not understood.

Fickle time.
Causality is superficial
In the face of perception.

Fast when comfort reigns
Slow when suffering remains

But there’s no cause
For the emotion
No result
No result

And when loneliness suffuses
The perception of time
With no cause or result
Its superficial nature
Is revealed.

I can smell your blood from across the world
Wounded as you are.
There are the prey and there are the hunters
And there are the warriors.
I think your public weeping and snapping betray
Which of those three you embody

This is not gloating or a threat of violence
This is the statement of place.
Mind yours.